Weasley's Wizard Whippings
by alienoctopus
Summary: WARNING: SMUT, mild BDSM AU Fred's alive two-shot in which an OC, Heather Bell, learns why exactly Fred Weasley looks at her that way- the way that terrifies her, the way that picks apart her soul, the way that sort of turns her on. Depending on the reaction to this, I might continue as a series.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my dirty little two-shot. I'll upload part two soon, I just wanted to tease you.** **Warning: smut, bdsm ahead** **-alienoctopus**

I have been living with the Weasley twins for about four months when it happened.

Wait. That sounds insane. Let me back up.

It was the end of the second wizarding war, and I was recently released from Azkaban.

That sounds even madder. I'll go back further.

The wizarding world was in the midst of the second war. I was working at the Ministry of Magic as an administrative assistant. I was rather disappointed about this as I was bound for an apprenticeship in the Department of Mysteries, but it had been destroyed my graduating year from Hogwarts due to Harry Potter and of course, good old Voldemort. Which was a shame—I was one of the best Ravenclaws in my year. I would have been a great asset. But I digress.

Harry Potter and his friends were Merlin knows where, and I was working at the ministry, who had an Imperiused Thicknesse as Minister of Magic, and Delores Umbridge essentially running the show. She had been giving hearings to muggle-borns, throwing most of them in Azkaban just because she could. As a muggle-born, I knew my day was going to come soon.

And it did. So I fought her. I fought her so hard; I tried to physically get my wand back from her. But unarmed, it was too easy to overtake me.

I was deemed unruly, unstable, and I was carted off to Azkaban.

I didn't even know she had my parents killed for my attempt to overthrow her until I was released—two days after Harry Potter's defeat of Voldemort. I was empty and untrusting. I still sort of am. I couldn't return to the ministry to work. I feared, and still do, the same thing happening again. I had to find a new job, and a place to live.

Fred and George Weasley were looking for a roommate, and new employees. The cost of repairs on their joke shop, and to pay those new employees, just required that they needed a roommate. And there I was, looking for exactly that.

The repairs didn't take too long, and most of the new hires either quit or were let go, as, though Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was a high-demand shop, they didn't need more than the six of us who remained.

Joking around was never my thing, but I enjoyed the work. I appreciated the craftsmanship. I needed something to do.

George is easily the nicer of the twins. He always addresses me by name and looks me in the eyes. He shook my hand when I signed the lease. Sometimes, he makes breakfast and I'm always surprised at how good his cooking is. He asks me how I'm doing (almost too much, sometimes I worry if I look sick) and about my friends. He's always a little sad when I tell him I don't talk to any of my friends anymore. I figure we were only friends because we were in the same house. I wouldn't have been close with my Hogwarts mates unless I had no other choice. George will ask if I'm dating anyone, and I'll laugh. The last person I dated was Roger Davies, who also dated every other girl at Hogwarts at the same time. But that one big Slytherin, Montague, always used to tell me the nastiest things about my body when we passed in the hallway. George shuddered in disgust when I told him that. I never would tell him, but I think there was a part of me that liked what Montague would say.

As warm and welcoming as George is, Fred is the complete opposite. He leaves the room whenever I walk in. I don't think we've ever made eye contact. He never compliments me for a job well done like George does, but rather, he'll point out whenever I do anything wrong. Sometimes, usually when we have no choice but to be in the same room together, like during breakfasts or dinners, he will just stare at me. I can't explain it, the intensity he looks at me with. His eyes feel like they can burn my flesh. George always calls me Heather, work or at home. But Fred will always call me Miss Bell. Sometimes I wonder if he does it because he knows I think it's kind of hot.

George started dating Angelina Johnson, a Gryffindor in my Hogwarts class, about three months into my living with them. Though George was even happier than he was when I first moved in, the mood in the flat changed completely. George started spending a lot of time at Angelina's, so it's been just Fred and me. I'll admit, it's sort of uncomfortable. He and I don't really talk. If he's not ignoring me, he's just staring at me. His stares make me feel dirty and wrong.

Yesterday is when things changed. I can't get it out of my head. George was at Angelina's, as he usually was at this point, and I was enjoying a relaxing cup of tea before bed. Fred walked into the kitchen and looked at me, his eyes boring into my face.

He was in his shirtsleeves and neatly pressed slacks. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. The fit of his shirt emphasized the fact that he had spent a few years playing quidditch. He still had on his suspenders and bow tie. His nice dress made him even more physically imposing than I already thought he was.

"Why didn't you make me a cup?" He asked.

"I didn't think to." I answered honestly. His gaze made me squirm in my seat. "But I made a whole pot, if you'd like some." I offered.

"Well, then, why don't you pour me a cup, Miss Bell." He said it like it wasn't a question. He wasn't imploring me to. He was telling me. He sat down across from where I was seated and I poured him a cup.

"What kind is it?" He asked when I set the cup and saucer in front of him.

"Peppermint. I thought it would be nice to have before going to sleep."

"Hmm." He stared at the tea before taking a drink. He seemed satisfied with it, because he took a second sip. I sat down again and tried to enjoy my cup. But every time I set it back on the saucer, I would look up to see him staring at me. So much for a relaxing moment before I went to sleep.

He finished his cup of tea before I finished mine, and I was relieved. He was going to leave. But he didn't. He stayed seated and continued to watch me, and asked me to pour him another half a cup to pass the time.

"What is it exactly that you want?" I asked while he was mid-sip. I couldn't bear it any longer. Fred's eyes narrowed immediately. He slammed his cup down and stood up. I was terrified. Very slowly, he walked to my side of the table and leaned down. I was too scared to turn my head to look at him. I could feel his breath, deep and warm, on my neck. He stayed there

"Miss Bell," he whispered huskily in my ear, "I simply want to fuck you." He stood up and walked out of the room. My breath was still hitched. My heart forgot to beat.


	2. Chapter 2

**Depending on the reaction this gets, I might continue it as a series. So if you want to see this go longer, please review/favorite/follow.** **But I really just needed to get some kink out of my system.** **-alienoctopus**

There I was, the morning after my encounter with Fred, waiting for the loo. Though the flat was rather large, it only had one bathroom. Fred was the one using it all morning, and George was still ahead of me in line for it. We shared a laugh over Fred's obnoxious singing in the shower. I actually found it quite endearing, especially considering how almost sociopathic I find him. It was human for him to sing in the shower. Everyone else sees this goofball side of Fred Weasley. I might be the only one who sees the other side of him.

Finally, George and I heard the shower stop and Fred fumble around. He opened the door and a spray of hot steam hit our faces. There Fred stood, a towel around his waist and his skin still dripped.

"All yours, brother." He grinned at George and slapped his shoulder.

"Bloody finally." George exclaimed as he closed the bathroom door behind him. It was just Fred and me, alone in the hallway. I shifted uncomfortably.

Fred was still grinning when I looked at his face. I felt my face get hot. I must have been bright red. I stood between him and the wall. Fred gave me no other choice but be surrounded by him.

"If you say yes, all you have to do is what I say." He told me. His voice was heavy. His lips were so very close to mine.

"W-what?" I stammered. But somehow I knew exactly what he was saying. He pressed his body into mine. Fred grabbed my wrists with one of his hands and held them above my head. That and the pressure from his body against mine rendered me unable to fight him. He kissed me with such force that I had no air left in me. He didn't take his lips off mine. He didn't let me move. I could feel the world around me start to go fuzzy.

Finally, he let go. He must have found great pleasure in my stunned expression, because he grinned wildly when he looked at me again.

"I think you know what I mean." He said. He turned to leave.

"Fred—"

"I'm Mr. Weasley." He said, a hint of anger lacing his voice.

"All right, Mr. Weasley," I said, almost sarcastically. I couldn't finish my sentence. He practically charged at me and assumed the same position we had before. He kissed me again. But this time was different. It was soft and gentle. I could taste sweetness from his lips. But that kiss lasted too quickly. He pulled away.

"All you have to do is say yes." With that, he walked away.

I practically fell on the floor, using the wall to support my back. I couldn't wrap my head around what happened. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that I sort of liked it.

-0-

"Miss Bell, I'm going to need you to stock shelves today." Fred said when I came into work.

"All right." I said. I hated stocking—I'd much rather sell. But work was work.

Fred looked at me expectantly, as if he wanted me to say something more. "Anything else, Fred?" I asked, almost defiantly.

"No, that's all for now." He looked at me with a hint of anger.

So I got to stocking Skiving Snackboxes, which was always a bestseller. Especially now that it was the end of August and all the Hogwarts students were saved up for the new term. Every time I filled a box and placed it on the shelf, it disappeared within a second. I decided that I'd fill the boxes up first and then stock them, which would buy some time to make more as they flew off the shelves.

I could feel Fred watching me the entire time. I wish he would just work—the shop was busy enough.

I was carrying about sixteen boxes to the Snackbox display. I couldn't see over them. But in the time that I had been working there, I learned how to maneuver gracefully through the crowd without dropping a thing. Which is why it came to me as such a great surprise when I tripped, dropping all the Snackboxes and half of the display.

"Heather, are you all right?" George rushed to where I was. He helped me up. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Fred watching us, grinning. I remembered watching him and George casting tripping jinxes on Slytherins in the hallways at school. I had a feeling I wasn't clumsy.

"I'm fine. Thanks, George." I smiled at him and he helped me pick up and restock the display.

"Be careful next time!" He said before he went to help some more customers.

"Be careful, indeed, Miss Bell." Fred crept up behind me. "Please don't destroy any more of my property. I'll have to take action if you do."

Chills ran up and down my spine. I was starting to enjoy the feeling Fred gave me. Without giving it a second thought, I spoke.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley."

Fred's expression changed from devious to curious. "What was that?"

"I said yes, Mr. Weasley. I think you know what I mean." I echoed his earlier words. He grinned. I don't think I've ever seen a man happier.

"I suppose you should get back to work, then."

And so I did. I restocked everything that needed it, and soon, the customers had filtered out.

"Heather!" One of the twins called for me, though without looking I knew it must have been George. I approached him and Fred, who were standing at the register.

"What do you need, George?" I asked him. My mind might have been playing tricks, but I swore Fred looked a bit jealous.

"Angie and I are setting up Fred on a date tonight—"

"—What?" I interrupted. I was dumbfounded. Unless I was reading what was going on with Fred completely wrong, him going on a date seemed like the opposite of what was going to happen.

"I know. It baffles me, too, that someone would want to go out with him. But, anyway. I was wondering if we were to leave now, could you close up shop on your own?" George asked.

I looked at Fred. I was a little hurt. I was expecting something to come out of him and I. He gave me a smug look, but remained quiet.

"Of course, George. It'd be no problem." I said. What else was I to do but agree?

"Brilliant! Thanks, Heather."

"Have fun." I said, mostly to Fred.

"I'm sure we will." George said. He was so amiable, and so unaware of the wicked look his twin was giving me.

They left, and I spent the rest of the workday thinking about Fred. Though I wasn't completely sure of what his earlier proposition entailed, I was at least positive that he had propositioned me. But then why is he going on a date with someone?

I shook my head. It was obvious—he didn't want a relationship with me. He had told me the other day that he simply wants to fuck me. I cannot deny him happiness with someone George and Angelina set him up with because there was the possibility of a sexual relationship between Fred and me.

I closed the shop and headed back to the flat. It was, of course, empty. Fred and George were out and it was only seven at night. I made myself a quick, light dinner and decided to go into my bedroom. Perhaps I would read a book.

I walked into my room and found a mysterious white box on my bed. Written on the lid were the words "Miss Bell." I knew exactly who it was from. I tore the lid off and found a very simple, lacy white bra and thong set, complete with matching garters. With it was a black silk eye mask and a note. I opened the note. My hands were shaking.

 _Miss Bell,_

 _You said yes._

 _If you mean it, put this on at exactly eleven o'clock. All of it. Once you're properly dressed, use your wand and cast this spell:_ _ **Incarcerousui**_

 _Please leave your bedroom door unlocked. If you lock it, I will take it as a dismissal of my offer._

 _Mr. Weasley_

I couldn't believe what I had read. I was scared. I had no idea what was going to happen. But the thought of Fred being so… in charge of me turned me on.

I looked at the clock. It was barely eight. I still had time to relax and make my decision. I decided to take a shower. I used my best perfume. But, still, I had to wait.

Finally, eleven o'clock came around. I knew what I wanted, and dressed in what Fred had given me. I made sure my bedroom door was unlocked.

I put the eye mask on and thought of the incantation Fred had given me. It sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it. I had no idea what it did. Mood lighting? I took the chance anyway and cast it.

I could feel tiny ropes snaked around me. My wrists were bound together above my head, and my ankles bound, keeping my legs closed and me lying down. And, so, I was left, tied up in practically nothing and unable to see. I waited.

And I waited.

I waited so long, I was almost sure this was a sick joke Fred was playing on me. I was running through all the way I could get back to my wand when I heard my door open. Everything inside of me stopped.

"This is a sight a man could get used to seeing."

I could only whimper. I could hear footsteps come closer and closer. I could feel Fred's breath on my neck. "Did you think I forgot about you, Miss Bell?" He asked. I could hear a laugh, almost taunting, in his words. I felt his body next to mine on the bed. Fred breathed in my neck, my breasts, my stomach… he stopped at the thong. "Oh this won't do," he said. He untied my ankles and forcefully spread my legs apart. I could feel his hot breath on my labia. He breathed it in.

"Beautiful. Have you been waiting long?" He asked. I could feel him stand up.

"No." I answered. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him, but I couldn't see because of the mask.

"If you are going to address me, call me Mr. Weasley, or sir. Now, that wasn't the answer I was looking for so let's try again: Have you been waiting long?" He asked angrily.

"Too long, Mr. Weasley." I said, a little scared if I was right or not.

"Perfect. You're going to wait a little bit longer, now." He left the room. I was convinced he would come back.

I could feel his presence at the door. He must have noticed me squirm, because he said, "I'm just admiring the view." I could feel that grin of his.

"Now, I'm going to need you to stand." He said. I struggled for a moment. With my hand still tied, it was difficult to find leverage to get up. When I finally stood, Fred took off my eye mask. His pupils were wide. I could tell he was drinking in my visage. It was empowering; I never had that effect on a man before. But that grin—that grin that showed how much power _he_ had.

"I saw you drop those boxes at work today." He said with a calm anger. I opened my mouth to protest—I knew he had tripped me—but he covered my mouth with his hand. "Now, I can't have you dropping things all over. That kind of behavior makes me look bad." He paused. "I had you wait for this," he picked up something that was leaning on my bed. "It's a whip. It's how I'm going to punish you for dropping boxes."

A million questions raced through my mind: how many times had he used that whip? How is he going to use it? What if it hurts?

He pulled me close and whispered; "If you want me to stop, call me by my name."

"Yes, Mr. Weasley." As soon as I answered him, I knew everything was going to change.

"I want you to bend over on the bed. Arse in the air. Now."

I did as he said. He helped guide me to the exact position he wanted me in. He put the eye mask back on me.

"How many boxes did you drop?" He asked. He twirled the whip around my body like a tongue.

"Sixteen." I answered.

He smacked my arse with the back of his hand. "I asked you, how many boxes did you drop?"

"Sixteen, Mr. Weasley." I whimpered.

"Sixteen floggings it is." He said. I winced prematurely.

The whip cracked against my bare flesh. I bit my tongue. I could feel blood pool and rush around the spot it had touched. I could feel the flesh turn pink.

I could tell Fred was now a little nervous. I heard him gulp.

"How many was that, Miss Bell?"

"Mr. Weasley, it was one."

"Excellent. Please count." He whipped me again.

This time didn't hurt as much, though I was sure it was with the same amount of force. My skin prickled and tingled and stung. "Two, sir." I called out.

Three, four, five, six. I surprised myself at how much I liked Fred whipping me.

Seven, eight, nine, ten. I could feel myself get wet.

Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen. He started whipping me harder.

Fifteen. I cried out in pain. He hesitated. He waited a long time before the last one, perhaps thinking I would call out his name.

Sixteen. I could feel tears soak up in the eye mask.

"Your bum is bright red," he said, "and that's how I know it's all mine." I heard Fred shuffle around the room. "Have you ever had sex before, Miss Bell?"

"No, Mr. Weasley." I answered.

"Really?" He sounded surprised.

"Really, sir."

Fred started dragging his fingers lazily around my body. I still couldn't see. I writhed at his touch.

"I'm going to change that."

"Please, sir."

Fred turned me over quickly and straddled my midsection. He twisted my erect nipples and slapped at my breasts. "Keep your hands above your head." He warned. I was craving to touch him. "Or else." I melted at his words. He took the mask off my eyes again. He admired the streaks of tears and mascara down my face.

He kissed me hard. He stole my air.

"I'm going to fuck you now." He said. I shivered at his words.

His hand clasped my neck. He didn't choke me hard—I still was able to find breath but barely. He sucked at my neck and chest, and then eventually he plunged his erect cock inside me.

"Bloody hell, you're tight." He exclaimed. I cried out in pain.

He thrust in and out, each time going deeper inside. I couldn't control myself.

"Don't come." He said forcefully.

He held himself deep inside and pulled roughly out. He choked me harder, and then went back inside.

I couldn't take it. I thanked the heavens when he said, "Come. Now." I yelped in pleasure, coming in waves. He took himself off me and lay at my side. He pulled me close and held me.

"Did you like that?" He asked.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley." I answered, somewhat timidly.

"You can call me Fred now."

"Oh?"

He smiled. "Yeah, I just had to make sure you were exactly what I was looking for."

"What about that girl you went out with earlier?" I asked.

"She's nothing compared to you. Look at you—so beautiful. You took very well." He said. He massaged my bum. "I was surprised."

"I was, too." I whispered.

"We'll have to discuss the terms of this relationship, things you'd like to try, and things I'd like try… But I'm willing to do anything if it even comes close to what we just did."

I agreed with him. "I can't believe I enjoyed it at all." I admitted. "So, you don't hate me?" I asked.

"Hate you? I'm mad about you. I couldn't have done any of that if I hated you."

I considered this. Wouldn't it be easy to whip someone you hate? But he exercised such control—perhaps it wasn't hate.

"This entire time I thought you hated me. You never call me by my name, you give me awful, dirty looks, you never talk to me."

"You bring this side out from me," he said, "a side I'd never show anyone else. Every time I looked at you, I imagined smacking your arse and fucking you raw. I imagined giving myself to you in a way I could never give to anyone else."

His words were strangely touching. "I'm happy I do. And I want to continue this. But now that you and I know each other in this way, can you please call me Heather outside of the bedroom? And treat me like you would anyone else?" I asked.

"I'll call you Heather. I'll do anything you like. But I don't think I'll ever really be able to treat you the way I'd treat anyone else." He said.

We lay there, in post-sexual bliss for hours, talking about things we'd want. Every once in a while, Fred would comment on how beautiful he thought I was. He would kiss me sweetly, and gently, not like how he did during sex.

And everything was beautiful.


End file.
